I Fooled Around (I Fell In Love)
by youlooklikethunder
Summary: Merlin is a bestselling yet uninspired author living in the US who needs a change in his life. Tragedy brings him back home and an old friend offers him a teaching job. (Because there are so many HighSchool!AUs and not nearly enough CollegeTeacher!AUs) (WIP)
1. Prologue: Natural Disasters

**_I Fooled Around (I Fell In Love)_**

Merlin/Arthur, (slight/soon to be past) Gwaine/Merlin

PG13

Summary: _There was nothing dim or dark about the weather today. The sun was high in place and the world continued to turn seemingly without tragedy. It's not the weather one expects to be met with on the day you bury one of your best friends._ - Merlin is an uninspired writer living in the US who needs a change in his life. Tragedy brings him back home and an old friend offers him a teaching job. (Because there are so many HighSchool!AUs and not nearly enough High-School-TEACHER!AUs)

Disclaimer: Not my characters. This has been a disclaimer.

AN: This was short (and to be honest I'm not sure I should be posting this) however if I don't lose my bravery and continue to post this I'll try my hardest to make future chapters longer. Title from Elvin Bishop's 'Fooled Around And Fell In Love' because the GOTG soundtrack is all I listen to these days. This is a really morbid start I'm evil I know just stick with it pls. Other pairings happen but shh spoilers. No beta, unfortunately.

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><p><strong>prologue :<strong> _NATURAL DISASTERS _;

There was nothing dim or dark about the weather today. The sun was high in place and the world continued to turn seemingly without tragedy. It's not the weather one expects to be met with on the day you bury one of your best friends. If the universe were the least bit decent it would allow some sight of misery to wash through the clouds until they were as grey and dull and lifeless as befit a world that no longer had one Lancelot Du Lac in it. No such luck.

Merlin arrives early in the service, not wanting to make an abrupt entrance and be noticed. He hopes to hide away in a corner but Gwen is ever attuned in her ways and she spots him the second he gets there. She takes him into her arms and when she says his name it's a breathless, broken _thing_. So unlike her it is that he can barely remember how to work his lungs; in and out, in and out – but how does one breathe like this? When it hurts….

It hurts so much that he can't much feel her lingering embrace, but that's okay because he reckons she's not quite all there herself either. One wouldn't be, he supposes, losing the love of their lives and all.

More people show up; friend, family, colleagues, and on and on it goes. This bright, awakened nightmare. Merlin watches Gwen carefully, too carefully, cataloguing her every expression and tucking it away without meaning to. It's one of the things he hates about being a writer. Any living thing is of observatory purpose and no circumstance is off limits. Eventually he'll make exploit of them on a blank page. Every gesture Gwen makes is without true presence, she holds herself up like a hollow queen left holding onto a silent castle. He disgusts himself.

He'd gotten her call long before the sun had come up, the states being on a different time and everything. It hadn't been a bother since he'd been awake anyway, writer's block made him an insomniac. His survival existed of anxiety and frustration. After hanging up the phone, he booked a flight straight home and left his publisher Gwaine a scribbled note to find when he woke. The barmy bastard would've wanted to tag along had he not and Merlin did _not_ need that happening.

Truth be told he should have gotten new representation the moment Gwaine's trousers came off, he knows this, but old habits and all. Besides, the man could be impossibly persuasive when naked. A little bit of Irish never hurt anyone either.

As the service continues Merlin has a good think over the last time he'd seen Lance. Their last meeting had not been face to face. It had been via webcam for Christmas holidays. From the moment he opted to live in New York he'd never really felt a rush to come back to the UK but Lance pressed and prodded, trying to persuade him to come back home for the festivities but he'd declined, just like every other year that passed.

_What are you keeping away from, Merlin? _His friend had asked him, a desperation to the question that Merlin felt unable and unready to even attempt answering.

So much had happened from then to now and so little he'd yet to come to grips with, there was so much, too much. So he'd lied.

_Nothing_, had been his answer. S_oon,_ he'd promised.

Soon however had come too late.

He realizes now that what kept him away was the fear of home. It sounds strange, to fear the comfort that comes along with such a word, but he had, and he did. He feared returning to face the missing pieces of what used to be his family, to notice what lingered, of what didn't. To see up close and personal what new brand of emptiness had taken to filling up that space his loved ones once fitted so snuggly. He had not wanted to be faced with how far those losses extended directions in his universe. The resounding ghosts of his father and his mother, his Uncle Gaius, of his once lover Daegal - this is what he'd feared to encounter upon coming home. No one and everyone.

Now, standing at yet another gravestone, it looked to be less and less of home was waiting there for Merlin to come back to. Damn.


	2. Dry Land, Sinking In The Quicksand

_**AN: **_Chapter title from the Noel Gallagher song, because I'm unoriginal that way.

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><p><strong>one :<strong> _DRY LAND, SINKING IN THE QUICKSAND ;_

Most of the family members head home, respectively, at the end of the service. Gwen and Lance's friends however head back to the home they shared as husband and wife for drinks. Merlin would have slipped out and away before anything could be asked of him but Gwen can be very perceptive of his intentions when she wants to be, almost better than Lance was. Had been. She holds onto his arm, frequently reaching, making sure he's still there, not once letting him out of her sight.

"Come," she begs of him, as if he had a chance at refusing. Merlin nods once and lets her lead him to her car, lets her cling. She's so desperately trying to hold onto something, he knows that feeling intimately.

Leon, Gwen's second in command (in a manner of speaking), follows after them like a kindly shadow. Merlin, observant as he is, senses the unrequitedness in their relationship. Leon's crush is palpable even with eyes closed. The man is sweet, though, Merlin must admit that.

This Leon character is dotting on Gwen but not overly so. He's respectful. Loyal. Ever the gentleman. Merlin can find no true fault to the man other than he has his eyes on a woman recently widowed. He could like Leon, given time. For now he'll settle on liking how Leon claims Gwen's attention so very effortlessly, freeing him of such duties for several seconds at a time. It's impressive.

Arriving at the Du Lac household is odd and misplaced without Lancelot there to join them. His things are still everywhere. Indents of the person he was mark every inch of the home yet he is nowhere to be found. Echoes and memories lie everywhere, all around. The area seems discarded and lonely and there is too much quiet. Merlin makes a conscious choice from the second he gets there to skip introductory beers and dive right into the hard liquor. He sits himself away by himself for the time being and watches quietly, drowning out his own grief as the house fills with the specific people invited over.

A woman introduced as Morgana arrives. She's glamorous, for a teacher. She's the head of both the Maths _and_ Chem department. Merlin hardly believes such a creature of perfection exists but there she is, drawing the attention of any eye in her vicinity in the most pleasant of ways. Elyan, Gwen's elder brother, pays a visit but he is not there to stay. They share a few words before he's out of the house again, Gwen seeming even tenser than before when the conversation is over. One of the Head Coaches of the footie team at Gwen's school drops by. Percival, his name is. He's sweet and shy and absolutely ginormous. Merlin's tempted to ask how much the bloke benches just to see if he would balk at being hit on so shamelessly, but he's still sober enough to contain himself. For now.

It's an entirely different scene by the time the last of the guests shows up. Merlin's gone from holding a glass of whiskey securely in hand to nursing the entire bottle. It lies haphazardly on his lap, his fingers gone bruising tight around the neck. There must be at least thirty people stuck in the room but only few catch his interest. For instance: Blond beauty - or so his alcohol filled brain dubbed one of the strangers at first sight, he's very unoriginal with words when attempts to get pissed off his arse are in play. Merlin's eyes trail after the blond man while he takes a healthy swig from the bottle.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Guinevere." He hears blondie tell Gwen, making direct eye contact with her before pulling her into his arms for a hug. A bit too forward for Merlin's tastes….

"Thank you, Arthur." He hears Gwen mumble into the fully broad shoulder.

They're close, Merlin realizes, what little sober part of him left feels a bit abashed for eying the intimacy of their display so eagerly.

"Lance was so very fond of you." She tells this Arthur fellow upon pulling away from the embrace.

"God knows why." Morgana interrupted, a wry smirk turning up on her beautiful face.

This so-called Arthur turns his attention to the raven haired woman and rolls his eyes ever so dramatically.

"Oh, the harpy is here, is she?" the comment is made snidely, and there is a bit of pettiness behind it, but Morgana seems to light up at the tone of voice blondie is throwing at her regardless. The remark also garners some laughter to be had amongst the guests.

Gwen slaps Arthur's arm lightly, the hidden hints of a smile threatening to overtake her lips. "Be nice." She reprimands fondly.

"I'm _always_ nice!" claims Arthur, affronted. His eyes dart around the room, landing on Merlin for a quick second and flashing with uncertainty before they settle their way back to Gwen.

"Can you just fill a glass and shut up for the rest of the night?" Morgana suggests brazenly, waving her drink in hand.

_Fabulous_, Merlin muses at her perfection with a sigh,_ downright fabulous._

Arthur seems unamused by this but he shrugs his coat off and accepts the glass of Brandy passed his way nonetheless.

"Very well," Arthur then raises his glass. The small crowd in the sitting room gathers about, hushing up immediately and looking at him with bright, waiting-to-be inspired eyes. Now it's Merlin's turn to roll his eyes, which he does.

"A toast." Arthur's posh voice fills the room without fail. Merlin reckons right then and there that Arthur's probably the type having been born into authority, the type of breed which seeks entitlement as if owed instead of actually earning them. The entire prospect makes Merlin more depressed than before and he lowers deeper into his chair with a scowl.

"To Lancelot," Arthur continues, "the noblest man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. We will hardly find a man of his like in this lifetime or any other. He not only became one of my truest and closest friends but also my brother in all but blood. I will miss him until my dying day, as better you all."

The room heartily agrees with Arthur's little heartfelt speech but Merlin feels a very real chill sweep through his skin and settle deep down into his bones. He releases his vice-like grip on the bottle, letting it fall to the floor. Not quite sure how he manages, he's up and out of the room in quick but shaky strides. His sense of direction is a bit shot but his body leads him out towards the back of the house and he exits right into the backyard. The air and change in scenery hits him like a slap to the face and he stumbles, his back thankfully coming in contact with the hard surface of the house with a jolting slap.

He blinks, shuts his eyes, breathes, almost chokes. _He_ was supposed to be Lance's truest and closest friend. Lance was _his_ brother in all but blood. Did someone else take his place in Lance's life?

"Merlin," Gwen's voice is quiet and lost. Her eyes are dim and her face looks paler than should humanly be possible. _Is she a ghost now too?_

"Shit," he mutters, swaying side to side helplessly. "Sorry, Gwen. Was in the needed of some fresh air. It's a bit too crowded inside."

Gwen nods but it's just a shake of her head really. She's just as detached as he is.

"I'm sorry." He offers, shaking the intense feelings of jealousy away from himself. He has to at least attempt to be selfless in her presence. It's what a good friend would do, wouldn't they?

"He _loved_ you." And her voice breaks. Tears start to fall. It comes naturally to extend his arms out toward her and let her hide away to cry on his shoulder. She's shaking like a leaf when she pulls away, sniffles a bit, but she's exhausted most of her tears. Gwen then insists on introducing him to everyone. The horror of it. He nods though, glad to be less than sober, and then proceeds to let her.

"Merlin's a writer." She tells her friends.

Gwen speaks with such a pride of his latest. The big bestseller with talks of being turned into a film by a famous Hollywood director, he feels like absolute shit for how he loathes that particular piece of work. Of all his novels so far and it had to be the one with the least amount of heart put into it that's hit in the market.

Everyone else in the room is delighted, of course. He gets a bunch of _ooohs_ and _ahhhs_, but at least no one uses the old 'That's on my bedside right this second!' line. He accepts the compliments he receives with a not-so-convincing smile and a dazed little nod of his head.

"Can you imagine if you lectured at our college?" Leon wondered aloud during all the fuss and Morgana's eyes went wide at the idea.

"Oh, you simply must!" she cried out, her hand clutching at the top of her chest.

"Actually, that's not such a bad idea." Gwen agreed, biting her lip and turning speculative. "You could even teach."

"Erm," Merlin coughed into his hand. "No. I don't think so."

"But you _could_!" insisted Gwen. "You have all your certifications! More than enough, actually."

"Except I'm not a teacher." Said Merlin, rubbing the back of his neck distractedly.

"You'll be more certified than our current Head of English, I can assure you that." Leon muttered into his drink.

"Yes!" exclaimed Gwen brightly. "All we get is complaints from Cenred's students."

Arthur chooses this as his time to comment, though his voice is bland and his entire expression uninterested. "He's a vile sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen."

"That really is all we need." Gwen turned her frown in Merlin's direction, bottom lip jutting out. "Oh, please, pretty please say yes, Merlin! Just for a couple of lessons!"

He so does resent how Guinevere could probably plead for bloody murder and still manage to look like a saint while doing it.

"Oh, she's practically levitating off the floor and glowing!" supplies Arthur, unhelpfully – in Merlin's opinion. The blond prat then waves his hand in Gwen's direction, "You should just say yes and be done with it. It's the least you could do for her, today of all days."

Everyone is staring at him. He's too busy glaring at Arthur, rendered speechless by being put on the spot so rudely.

Reluctantly, Merlin tears his eyes away from Arthur and they rest on Gwen. She looks absolutely taken by the idea, managing to plead at him without uttering another word.

Double-damn.


	3. (I'm Not Dead) Just Floating

**_AN_: **Chapter Title from the song 'I'm Not Dead' by Pink.

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><p><strong>two :<strong> _(I'M NOT DEAD) JUST FLOATING ;_

"You're _what_?!" Gwaine practically screams into his ear over the phone.

"Yeah," Merlin winces, pouring himself yet another cup of coffee. Sixth cup actually. It's midday and his head is still pounding from the night before. "I was drunk," he explained, "and surrounded by expectant, grieving people… you try it."

Gwaine then proceeds to laugh his ear off and Merlin hangs up on him after that. It seemed a good idea to phone Gwaine and let him know of the situation, the man was in charge of his career after all. It was the nicer thing to do, there's no question about that. Merlin didn't have to and honestly, he doesn't need anyone laughing at him right now.

Agreeing to teach at Gwen's college is something he's been cringing about since the second he'd said 'yes'. He's avoided thinking about it and he will continue to do so until he actually has to do it. It's not particularly a method he's proud of but that's the solution he's worked out so far and he's sticking to it. He'll have to wake up at a proper hour and everything. It's enough to make him want to throw up again.

Sighing, he takes a drink from his cup and dreads it some more. Why not? His day is free anyway. Gods, he's going to be rubbish at it. If only Lance were here to….

Oh. Right. The forgetting. That happens quite a bit, Merlin's noticed. He'll start dialing in his cell, Lance's number, and it'll ring once or twice, and then he'll remember. No one will answer his phone call. Lance is gone.

He sets his coffee aside, no longer in the mood to stomach anything other than air at the moment, and he just sits. Merlin wonders what it would be like to be completely vacant of feeling. Were it possible, would he feel better for it? Would he simply feel nothing? Would that be worse?

His phone starts buzzing. It's Gwaine.

"Yeah," he answers, instead of a 'hello'.

"You hung up on me." Says Gwaine by way of greeting. He doesn't sound angry about it either.

"I did." Merlin agrees.

"That was rude." Gwaine tells him, so distractedly that Merlin has to wonder what (or who) he's doing.

"You're rude." Merlin replies.

"So you're really going to do this then?" questions Gwaine. "Teach?"

Merlin sighs into the phone. "I've got no real choices here."

"You've got loads of choices, Emrys." Says Gwaine. "You just don't want to be a prissy little bitch out loud, so you're being one in quiet."

"Fuck you too." Merlin spits out.

Gwaine's chuckle is soft in his ear. "Now, now, pet. You know bad teacher is a kink of mine, don't start if you don't plan on following through."

Merlin's helpless to the grin that brings out in him. "You are shameless."

"Always." Gwaine mouths back. "By the way, how'd the burial go? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"I do mind." He says, truthfully.

Gwaine sighs on the other end. "I do care about you, Merlin. I want to know that you're okay."

Merlin bites his lip. "I know. And I am." He lies. "Okay, I mean."

"And aren't you always?" Gwaine responds, sounding sadder than Merlin likes. "Listen, with all this nonsense about teaching, I've got to clear your schedule then. I'll call you when it's done."

Merlin is met with the dial tone.

**x X x**

He meets Gwen for lunch the following day, just to go through the basics.

"Alright," says Gwen, sorting through the piles of papers she's brought with her. His face must be telling because she smiles one of her warm, comforting smiles and gives a pat to his hand. "It looks more hectic than it is, I promise you."

"Bloody fantastic." Merlin mutters beneath his breath, sinking further into his seat and brooding.

"Oh, don't pout, Merlin!" Gwen begs him kindly. "It only makes you look more adorable and we both know the universe cannot sustain that."

He chuckles, despite himself, admitting, "I have missed you."

Gwen's smile falters, a break in the happy-go-lucky façade. "We missed you too." She looks away. Her hands stop moving over the documents. Stillness. Silence.

"You're different." She says, eventually, when she's gotten over the immense tragedy of how using a simple little word like 'we' is no longer applicable in her life now that her husband is dead.

"It's not in a bad way," Gwen babbles on, "or maybe, perhaps it is. I'm not sure. I can't say, really. I don't know. But you have. You've changed."

Merlin nods at her assessment. "People change."

He sees it in her eyes, the way she's trying to comprehend it. He remembers looking in the mirror and doing the same. Change. It can leave you gaping in the face of it sometimes.

"I'm still me." He reassures her.

The smile is back on her face. "Of course." Gwen slides a few papers across the table ready for him to sign. "You should know by now that you'll never manage to get out of being our beloved Merlin, no matter how hard you try."

"Comforting." Merlin says, accepting the pen she hands over and signing on the dotted line.


	4. The Dreams We Have As Children Fade Away

**AN: **Hilarity and sadness, they go hand and hand. I suppose I should give a warning for language and acts of religious blasphemy. Chapter title from the song_ Fade Away_ by Oasis.

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><p><strong>three :<strong> _THE DREAMS WE HAVE AS CHILDREN FADE AWAY ;_

Somehow, Morgana got one of the college funders to dole out some extra spending money for her department. Arthur doesn't want to know how, he (and his sanity) don't need those sordid little details floating around in his brain, only now he is the one stuck helping Morgana place this new equipment in her room. She's humming some annoying tune while they open up the various boxes delivered to campus that morning. It's probably one of those good-for-nothing songs they play nonstop on the radio, he assumes. Her taste in music is utterly dreadful.

"So what do you think of this Merlin bloke?" he wonders to his half-sister aloud.

Morgana stops humming and turns around to look at him. A peculiar smirk is on her face and her eyes narrow dangerously.

"Why, dear brother," she says, velvety soft, "are you interested?"

Arthur cringes. "Oh my god, no! Get your head out of the gutter, you harpy!"

Morgana snickers nastily and Arthur chucks some Styrofoam from inside one of the cardboard boxes at her. Decidedly ignoring those bewitched comments of hers, he continues. "I'm just left wondering if this is a good idea. Gwen is grieving and you shouldn't make big decisions when you are in such a state. Job decisions especially."

"Gwen is a big girl." States Morgana. At Arthur's glare she hurries to concede, "But I see what you're saying."

Arthur nods in thanks.

"However, this is temporary." Says Morgana, a grin spreading on her face. "And he's supremely cute. _And_ he's a writer."

"Alright, alright," Arthur snaps, "don't get your knickers in a twist while I'm in the room. It's really disgusting."

Morgana's smile only grows wider. "You should show him around when he gets here." She suggests. "Show him your big auditorium that they gave you this year. Big shot music teacher that you are, maybe you can offer him a private show. Maybe you can show him how to play your instrument."

"Mor_gana_!" Arthur cries, a tad bit scandalized. He's never one to shy away from a bit of over-the-top (and fairly inappropriate) teasing, especially from her, but they are in a classroom for fucks sake. It's not teaching hours but this _is_ a place of teaching. Has she no shame?

_Obviously not._

Morgana throws he head back and laughs and laughs and laughs. Arthur simply can't stand for that.

"I don't know why you're focusing on me anyway." He skillfully diverts. "You're the one with the student/teacher relationship drama."

At that, she stops laughing immediately and her eyes dart to the open door at the edge of the room.

"I have done no such thing!" Morgana protests, hurrying to shut the door. She locks it too.

"Oh, _please_," Arthur grins, happy to have ruffled her feathers. "You and that dark haired kid, what's his name? Mordred, is it?"

She's practically seething now. "I do _not_ fuck my students, Arthur Pendragon!"

"But you want to." He points out, matter-of-fact.

Morgana turns all shades of red before his eyes.

"Shut up!" she grits out, lamely.

Now it's his turn to laugh and laugh and laugh.

**x X x**

Merlin ends up at the cemetery, eventually. Visiting, or more like loitering if he's honest. Everyone is here now. His mum, his dad, his uncle Gaius, his best friend Will, his once lover Daegal, and now… Lance. He makes the usual rounds while he's there.

First his mum and dad. He doesn't know what to say to them, so he doesn't say anything. Will and Gaius are not far off.

He comes around Will's headstone first and it is covered with something overly religious. Merlin cringes away from it as if being burned. Leaning in closer to see the small Jesus figure, Merlin chuckles at the irony. Oh, Will would have absolutely hated it. He makes sure no one is around before ripping away the Jesus figurine someone has left on the grave, betting on it being one of Will's overly religious aunts.

It's always a bit funny how things change when someone dies. And by funny, Merlin means fucking ridiculous. Alive, Will's aunts and uncles thought him useless and gone in a bad way. They'd always mouth off about him whenever they could, especially when he was in the room. Dead, however, he's a fucking saint.

"There." Merlin says, once the action of blasphemy is committed and the item is tossed well away. While dusting the dirt from his hands onto his jeans he can practically hear Will thanking him profusely for such a favor, a joint hanging from his mouth as it always was back in those days. "You're very welcome, old friend." Merlin replies, "But this is what you get for overdosing at nineteen."

Gaius was his next stop.

"I miss you." Merlin reveals, "I miss you the most."

Merlin pauses before heading towards the direction Daegal is buried. He feels he doesn't really have the right to go there, going as he wasn't the best… whatever they were. Daegal deserved better and that's just plain factual.

"Looked up your name the other day." Merlin tells the headstone. It looks to have wearied from the years that have passed but that could just be Merlin. "_Dweller by the dark stream_, says one. _Dawn_, says another. If names did really mean anything, both would fit you nicely." Merlin sighs, kneeling down and letting his fingers trace over Daegal's name. "I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy either."

He saves Lance for last. It's harder than he thought it would be, walking up to the space Lancelot now resides. Standing there… it's actually real now. Denying is no longer an option, which Merlin has been guilty of.

"Just had to join the family, eh?" Merlin says to the headstone, somewhat bitterly. It garners no response. "I, uh, I kind of got myself in a bit of a predicament. You know, the usual stuff I get up to when you're not around to stop me." He bites his lip and eyes the engraving of Lancelot's name on the stone piece, feeling a deep resentment building towards such a thing existing in the world now. He pushes on, admitting, "I've got to teach at your wife's college come this Monday and I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to do. Me and a room full of eager, human minds. Gods, did I really used to be like that too?"

There is nothing but the wind and Merlin glares.

"You really had to go and die on me, didn't you?" he accuses.

Nothing, not one sound emits from the space around him.

"I'm sorry." Merlin whispers, barely a sound in itself, and he is sorry.

He's sorry for not coming home when Lance asked and not being more honest about what was going on in his end of things. He knows Lance tried to help him and he wouldn't let himself be helped, and he knows that killed Lance more than anything in the world ever could. So Merlin says it now, pointless as it seems, because he knows Lance will hear it, wherever he is now. Because Lancelot would.

"I'm so sorry." He repeats again, and just barely has the strength to keep himself from collapsing onto his knees. He stands there, letting the grief that's nestled so deep within him add on another loss. He breathes in and it aches.


	5. It's Too Late (Ready Or Not At All)

**AN**: I think this chapter lacks a bit of heart and is too damn short, but something is better than nothing, right? Chapter Title from Green Day's' _Waiting_'.

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><p><strong>four :<strong> _IT'S TOO LATE (READY OR NOT AT ALL) ;_

Gwen and Leon fill the days before Merlin was set to appear at his first class full of eager young minds. They ambushed him with instructions of what he could and could not do and coached him through the proper answers he should give if certain questions were to arise. Merlin suspects there should be more paperwork involved during the whole bit but he does not question Gwen on it. If she's filling out all the papers so he doesn't have to, well, then who's he to take that away from her?

"So, I'm just going to run this through you once more," Gwen says excitedly from behind her desk. It's the day before classes start and she's rushing through the rules, yet again. Bless her. "Please tell me you've got all that?" she begs, once she's finished.

The truth is, no. Not one bit, really, he hasn't. But he says: "Absolutely," pointing to his head, "all up here, ready to go."

"Brilliant!" exclaims Gwen, smiling with accomplishment. Which she should be, she's tried very hard to guide him in preparation for his duties. It's hardly her fault he's a distracted creature by nature these days. Mind always off some place and never staying put. But he's a bullshitter – a professional one, at that: he's a writer. He'll be fine improvising from this point on. Hopefully.

"Now, here are the names of your students." Gwen is handing another set of papers at him, "I've marked down the bad apples for you on a separate sheet, just so you are up to date on what they'll try to pull and whatnot. Please do burn it when you're done reading it."

Merlin accepts the papers, very careful not to sigh in her presence. "Will do, Gwen." he promises.

"Good," she exhales. "All that's left is a tour of the college. Leon will do that with you because I have a few more things to take care of before tomorrow, including announcing your addition to the programs. I'd have announced it earlier but the press would be all over you and I didn't want you to go through that."

"Thanks, Gwen." Merlin grins, for her benefit more than anything. "I can't wait."

By the look she gives him, he knows that she can see everything he's been trying to hide from her. In turn, the mask slowly lifts on her own face and he sees everything she's hiding from the world.

When she thanks him, it's the most genuine thing he's had happen to him in a very long time.

"Thank you, Merlin." _For doing this for me_ – isn't said, but he hears it anyway.

"Here I should be the one thanking you," He mutters, nods. "You're welcome, Gwen." And he means it.

The honesty they share bleeds through so heavily that the room fills with it, encircles and reminds them both of exactly what Lancelot had instilled in the both of them during his too-short of a lifetime: their ability to act in loyalty for those they care for, no matter what the other is going through.

Gwen calls Leon in from the other room, breaking the spell their shared grief had momentarily created. She asks him to show Merlin around for her and Leon agrees.

"As you wish," replies Leon, ever so obediently.

Gwen smiles at him, the act one of indulgence, before returning her attention to whatever else is her task for the day.

Merlin, who is standing there, watching, has to wonder if he's the only one who's caught on that Leon is bloody quoting from The Princess Bride.

"This way, Merlin." Leon calls, softly, so as not to disturb Gwen.

Sighing, Merlin shakes his head from the various scenarios playing out in his head, adds another reminder to himself that people he knows in real life are _not_ to be used as story sources, and follows.

**x X x**

The college proves larger than Merlin had imagined. There were far too many subjects to major in and every corridor looks the same as the next. His own room, thankfully, was near an exit door. All Merlin had to do now was memorize what section his classroom was located in and never, ever seek the outside of it.

"Would you like some time with the room?" Leon suggests to him, once inside said room.

Merlin found himself nodding absently. Being a writer, he'd grown used to his own company for quite a few years now and alone time sounded absolutely wonderful right about now.

"Right," says Leon, "just, erm, go to the head office if you need anything or have any more questions."

"Thanks," mutters Merlin, wandering over to the desk he assumes is his. It was front and center, and bigger than any of the others in the room.

Then, he was alone. Merlin sunk into the chair behind the desk with an exhale and buries his face in his hands. He doesn't know how long he stays there, in that position, but eventually he asks aloud, to no one in particular, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"And just how does one make it stop?"

Merlin's head shoots up in surprise at no-one-in-particular's answer. There, leaning casually at the doorway of his new classroom, stood Gwaine.

"Hello, sunshine," the irishman greets, smiling like he hadn't a care in the world. "Thought you could use a friendly face."


End file.
